Sunday, December 16, 2012

Fighters of the Damned Part Two

           Part One

Matt slowly opened his eyes, groaning from the pounding in his head along with the general soreness throbbing throughout his joints. Looking around to try and gather his wits, he could only curse inwardly as he found himself in possibly on of the worst possible situations.
Strapped to a table beneath a bright light in a darkened room.
He was nude, if the chill of the room and steel of the table were any indication, with an IV steadily dripping some mysterious liquid into his left arm. Flexing his arms and legs individually, he was pleased to learn he hadn’t suffered any breaks or sprains, but cursed his luck at how tight his restraints were.
There was no chance for escape, to be certain.

“Ah, I see you’re awake.” Came the clipped tones of a man who had learned English as a second language, high and reedy. Looking past the blinding light, he could just make out the paunchy form of an elderly Asian man, arms folded behind his back and draped in the finery of a scientist. An ankle length lab coat with more pockets than Matt could count with ease lined his front, a pair of shiny black shoes standing stark against the pristine white floor.
“Who the fuck are you?” Matt rasped, his voice rough and harsh from lack of use. “And how long have I been out?”
“You’ve been out for nearly a week my good sir, with your heart rate and breathing brought to a near standstill by a handful of drugs one of my men gave you when you proved less than interested in my kind offer.” The man explained, moving forward and laying a thin hand on Matt’s wrist, looking to his own watch to count his heart beats per minute. “As for who I am, you may merely call me your new God. Though I suppose Konta would suffice, if only for now.”
Matt tries to gather the saliva needed to spit at the short man, but fails as his mouth dryer than a box of sand. He resigns himself to merely glaring at the offensive man.
“Good… good… you’re coming along quite well.” Konta says after a few tense moments. “A more thorough medical examination will have to be performed once you’ve become more pliable, but for now I believe you will serve well enough.”
“Serve what?” Matt spits, glaring at the diminutive man.
“Why, your country of course! From your records I’d say that would be something you’re used to by now, wouldn’t you Staff Sergeant?” Konta replies with a wicked smile.
“I retired years ago, full discharge. This is kidnapping.” Matt growls, struggling against his restraints.
“That it is Staff Sergeant, that it is. But I’m afraid to say your country has need of you once more.” Konta said with an air of finality, shaking his head slowly as he moved around the table with a slow gait. “Seven years as a Marine, with an additional ten as a professional fighter… such a specimen is hard to pass up.”
“I’ll escape from here… I’ll escape from here and tell everyone just exactly what is going on.” Matt threatens, rocking his table back and forth to try and free himself. One of Konta’s hands quickly moves to his shoulder, steadying the rocking table with a surprisingly firm grip.
“You need help remembering… this is understandable.” Konta says almost flippantly before ramming a thick syringe into Matt’s neck, pushing the plunger as the man cries out in pain from the liquid fire being pumped into his veins. “Remember then!”
The general grogginess Matt had felt instantly faded away as a whirlwind of memories flooded through his mind. Of lying in a pool of own waste and blood, only to be found by his manager and wife. Of being brought to the morgue and given a cursory examination, the faint echo of a faceless doctor mentioning his death being the result of an overdose of drugs. He remembered being laid to rest in a plush coffin while his wife and two children silently wept, as a chaplain spoke of his service to his country and to the people in general.
And then he remembered being buried.
“That’s right,” Konta’s voice, a mere whisper, pierces through the haze of images, “As of yesterday your Heavyweight title was revoked due to your proven drug abuse. It wasn’t that difficult to slip in some tainted blood for the testing; after all, I saved quite a bit of money when you refused my most generous offer. It had to go somewhere, why not use it as bribes?”
“I’ll kill you!” Matt grits out, tears welling at the sides of his eyes as he witnessed the images of his life crumbling over and over. “I’ll kill you, and I’ll do it slowly.”
“The threats of a dead man mean little to me, but I thank you for keeping me in your thoughts.” Konta laughed, pulling the syringe from Matt’s neck before placing a cool cloth over the wound. “The truth of the matter is I had you brought here to in fact become what our government trained you to be, what you continued to practice after you retired.”
Konta’s face emerged from the darkness to hover above Matt’s, a hideous grin etched onto his face. “I brought you here to make you into a killer.”

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